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GOLDEN HOUR SERIES 

A CHILD'S GARDEN 

OF 

VERSES 

BY 
ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 



Selected and arranged by 
MELVIN HIX, B.S. 

Bachelor of Education 
Principal of Public School No. 31, Bayside, New York City 

Author of Fifty English Classics Briefly Outlined, Once 
Upon a Time Stories, Approved Selections for Reading 
and Memorizing, A Brief Outline of Books I Have 
Read, A Brief Outline of My History Lessons, etc. 



EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

New York Boston Chicago 

San Francisco 



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Copyright, 19 io 

BY 

EDUCATIONAL PUBLISHING COMPANY 



ICI.A;^?3.190 



CONTENTS 



To Alison Cunningham 

To My Mother 

At the Seaside 

Time to Rise 

A Thought . 

Whole Duty of Children 

Happy Thought 

Auntie's Skirts . 

System .... 

Looking Forward 

Rain .... 

The Cow 

A Good Boy 

The Swing 

Good and Bad Children 

The Sun's Travels 

Marching Song 

A Good' Play . 

My Shadow . 

Fairy Bread 

The Land of Counterpane 

The Wind 

Summer Sun 

The Moon 

Winter Time 

Bed in Summer 

Night and Day 

Singing 

My Bed is a Boat 

Young Night Thought 

The Lamplighter 

The Land of Story-books 

Armies in the Tire 

Escape at Bedtime 



25 
26 

26 
27 
27 
27 
27 
28 
28 
28 
29 
29 
30 
31 
32 
33 
34 
35 
36 
37 
38 

39 
40 

41 

42 

43 
44 
46 
47 
48 

49 
50 
51 
53 



CONTENTS 



The Land of Nod . 
Northwest Passage. 
I. Good-Night 
II. Shadow March. 
III. In Port. 
Keepsake Mill 
Nest Eggs 

Historical Associations 
The Flowers 
The Gardener 
Autumn Fires . 
My Treasures 
The Dumb Soldier 
Picture-books in W'inter 
Windy Nights . 
Pirate Story . 
Block City 
Looking-glass River 
Where Go the Boats? 
My Ship and I 
My Kingdom 
The Hayloft . 
The Little Land 
The Unseen Playmate 
To Auntie 

Farewell to the Farm 
Travel 

To Any Reader 
From a Railway Carriage 
Foreign Lands 
Foreign Children 
To Minnie 
To Mv Name-Child 
To Willie and Henrietta 
Envoy 



54 
55 



57 
59 
6o 
6i 
62 

63 
64 

65 
67 

68 
69 
70 
71 
73 
74 
75 
77 
78 
81 
.82 

83 
86 
86 

87 
88 
88 
90 

94 
96 

97 



INTRODUCTION 

The greatest task which confronts the Httle child is the 
mastering of the mother tongue in its three phases — 
speech, reading, and writing. In the accomphshment of 
this task, nothing is so helpful as the hearing and reading 
of large quantities of suitable poetry. This fact was well 
known to the people of antiquity. Before the age of writ- 
ing, the laws and traditions of each tribe were handed 
down through the medium of verse. Verse was chosen 
rather than prose, because its form facilitated memorizing 
and furnished a guarantee of accuracy. When the law 
or tradition had been once thrown into the poetic form it 
was difficult to change its meaning without destroying its 
form and this would at once furnish a test of correctness. 

It was in this manner that all the nations of antiquity 
trained the minds of their young and transmitted to pos- 
terity the memory of the deeds done by their heroes, and 
those laws and rules of conduct which experience had 
found it necessary to impart to the youthful members of 
the community. Thus it was that the Greeks preserved 
to posterity the poems of Homer and the laws of their 
legislators. 

7 



8 INTRODUCTION 

After the invention of writing, the necessity for poetry 
as a medium for the preservation of fact and tradition, 
passed away. For purposes of mere utility, prose took 
its place; yet the poetic form did not fall into disuse. It 
was found that poetry contained in itself a cultural value 
which could not be gained from prose. For many gener- 
ations, the Greek school boy learned by heart the poems 
of Homer or of Hesiod. 

In more recent times, poetry has come to be compara- 
tively neglected. Two or three generations ago there were 
many persons, some so-called educators, who entirely 
rejected or neglected poetry as a means of educating the 
young. This may have been owing in part to the fact 
that there was not in English literature any considerable 
body of poetry suitable for the use of very young children. 
Even in our day, poetry of tliis class, printed in a form 
suitable for the home and the school, has not been gener- 
ally available at a moderate price. It is to remedy this 
condition in part that this series of books is now offered 
to the public. 

At the present day poetry, as an educational force, is 
recovering its ancient place in the schools. There are, 
probably, few or no educators of any standing or reputa- 
tion whatever who deny its importance, and were these 
books intended solely for the use of schools, nothing more 
need be said. Since, however, it is hoped that they may 
find a place in many homes, it seems fitting to explain 



INTRODUCTION 9 

more fully the importance of poetry in the education of 
the young. 

Children should read poetry because they like it. Some- 
thing within the child responds immediately to the rhyth- 
mical beat of the verse. So potent is this instinct, that 
children put rhythm into sounds which have it not. The 
tick of a clock is as evenly monotonous as mechanism can 
make it. Yet to the child it is not tick, tick, tick, tick, 
but tick, tock'; tick, tock' with a strong ictus upon the 
second syllable. This feeling for rhythm seems to be a 
physical, as well as a mental, instinct, originating, probably, 
in the rhythmical beating of the heart. Thus the very 
physical hfe of the child is based upon rhythm. Quite 
naturally, therefore, he responds most readily to the rhyth- 
mical forms of language. The length of the line of verse 
is also determined by the physical nature of man. A line 
of poetry is merely a certain number of syllables which 
can be pronounced comfortably between one breath and 
another. For most persons, this number is eight or ten, 
and for this reason verse forms which exceed ten, or at 
most, twelve syllables to the line have never been and 
never can become popular. To the child, of course, who 
breathes more rapidly than the adult, the shorter forms 
of verse are most suitable. 

Rhyme also — a kind of rhythm which comes at longer 
intervals and marks the end of the line — furnishes a 
keen pleasure to the child. The gratification furnished 



lo INTRODUCTION 

by rhythm and rhyme is quite independent of the sense 
of the words read. It is for this reason that the very 
baby who knows scarce half a dozen words is soothed 
and amused by "Nonsense Verses" and Mother Goose 
Rhymes. To the po ency of such, the experience of every 
mother will furnish ample testimony. 

It is a mistake to suppose that young children should 
not learn poetry which they cannot fully understand. 
Every child, not hopelessly dull, when he begins to attain 
a mastery of the mother tongue, dehghts in using words 
often entirely without meaning to him. He prattles on 
all day, repeating the words and sounds which he has 
learned in an endless variety of combinations. This 
apparently aimless exercise of the linguistic organs, is 
Mother Nature's method of training the child to the utter- 
ance of inteUigible vocal sounds. For this reason, even 
nonsense rhymes and jingles give the child pleasure, and 
at the same time develop his power over the linguistic 
organs. 

To some matter-of-fact adults, the child's intense love 
for rhymes and jingles may seem silly and useless: some- 
thing to be repressed rather than gratified and encouraged. 
To such persons it may be worth while to state that modem 
pedagogy has furnished an explanation of this childish 
love of verse; an explanation based upon the doctrine of 
evolution, which is now, in some form or other, accepted 
by all. 



INTRODUCTION ii 

Biologists have found that before birth the human em- 
bryo passes through various stages similar to those by 
which earthly life has evolved. In the beginning it re- 
sembles the lowest forms of invertebra from which it 
ascends to the highest, or vertebrate, forms of animal life. 
After birth, the child's mental and physical characteristics 
resemble those of the quadrumana, and later those of the 
lower races of humanity. The biologists further tell us 
that each stage is necessary to the fullest development of 
the individual. In short, the child does, and should, 
recapitulate the various stages through which the race has 
been evolved. This theory is known as the "Culture 
Epoch Theory," and is generally accepted by modern 
educators. 

Now the child, up to the age of twelve or fourteen, 
passes through, or recapitulates, the savage and barbar- 
ous stages of race-evolution. In those stages the race uni- 
versally preferred verse to prose, and the child while passing 
through the same stage exhibits the same preference. 

Children should read poetry also because it trains the ear 
and furnishes a guide to the pronunciation of many words. 
This is especially true of the more musical forms of verse. 
Such poetry, when well read, or recited, furnishes a valu- 
able training of the sense for the beautiful in language, 
which is probably latent in the mind of every normal child. 
The training thus afforded is closely akin to that furnished 
by music and is scarcely less valuable. Rhyme, requiring 



12 INTRODUCTION 

an identity of sound at the ends of lines sometimes fur- 
nishes a valuable key to the pronunciation of words. 

Children should read and memorize poetry for the pur- 
pose of training the memory and increasing their vocabulary. 
The use of poetry for these purposes has been approved 
of in all ages and by all schools of educators. Its value 
in the training of the verbal memory has been experienced 
by almost everyone. A poem once thoroughly learned, 
and afterwards almost forgotten, can be recalled far more 
easily and completely than could be done in the case of 
a prose selection of equal length. Besides, it is far more 
easily learned in the first place. The form of poetry, the 
measured beat of the rhythm, the regular length of the 
line, and the recurring harmony of the rhyme, all aid the 
memory in retaining the words. Thus, in the mind of 
the child who hears, reads, and learns much poetry, a 
large and varied stock of words will be accumulated. 
The importance of this enrichment of the vocabulary can 
scarcely be over-estimated. One who notices the talk of 
children will inevitably be astonished at the paucity of 
the words they are accustomed to use. The elementary 
school course brings the child into contact with several 
thousands of words; in their conversations, many of 
them employ but a few hundred. 

Besides the mere hearing, reading, and learning poetry, 
there is another way in which young persons increase 
their stock of words and improve their command over 



INTRODUCTION 13 

them ; that is, by writing rhymes and verses of their own. 
This practice is far more general than is sometimes 
supposed. As Hugh Miller says, "Almost every active 
intelligence during youth has a try at making verse." 
Conradi found that just fifty per cent of the cases he inves- 
tigated had tried their hands at original poetry. Benjamin 
Franklin and many others have recorded their efforts in 
this direction, and their belief in the efficacy of the practice. 

This practice of verse-making should always be com- 
mended and encouraged. The effort to find words to fit 
the rhythm and the rhyme will greatly broaden and enrich 
the child's stock of words. In this connection it is an 
interesting fact that almost every master of English prose 
has, at some time or other, served an apprenticeship as 
a verse-maker and recorded his belief that this practice 
is a valuable aid toward the mastering of a good prose 
style. 

Children should read poetry because it furnishes the mind 
with a store 0} valuable ideas. The importance of this 
enrichment of the child's mental content cannot be over- 
rated. The child is bound to have something going on 
in his mind. Self -activity is an instinct of the mind as 
well as of the body, but self-activity demands something 
to work with. The mind cannot be active in vacuo any 
more than a baseball nine can play the game without the 
ball. It is the business of the parent and the teacher to 
put the child's mind into a condition to use good and 



14 INTRODUCTION 

elevating ideas rather than those which are evil and de- 
basing. These good ideas can be furnished by the reading 
of good poetry. While engaged in this the child will not 
learn to lie, to swear, to fight, to cheat, or to steal. 

The importance of implanting good ideas in the child s 
mind is emphasized by the theory of the human mind held 
by the philosopher Hume and many others. According 
to this theory, ideas create the mind. Hume says: "The 
ideas are themselves the actors, the stage, the theatre 
the spectators, and the play." Professor James, while 
not accepting this theory in its entirety, says: "No truth 
however abstract, is ever perceived, that will not probably 
at some time or other, influence our earthly actions. 
. . . Every sort of consciousness, be it sensation, feel- 
ing, or idea, tends directly to discharge itself into some 
motor effect." In other words, our actions are dependent 
upon our stock of ideas. How important, then, that the 
ideas with which a child's mind is stocked shall be good, 
and poetry is the most effective vehicle for the conveyance 
of good ideas to the mind of the young child. 

Children should read poetry because it stimulates and 
develops the imagination. The imaginative appeal of 
poetry is known and acknowledged by all. Indeed, it 
constitutes one of the essential elements of poetry. Now, 
children, whether we wish it or not, will exercise their 
imagination. It is, during childhood, the dominant mental 
faculty. "Of all people children are the most imagina- 



INTRODUCTION 



IS 



tivc." The childish imagination, if left to itself, is quite 
as apt to run to the evil as to the good. Indeed, if we 
accept the doctrines of a certain school of theologians, it 
is far more apt to take the dovvnward than the upward 
path. The only way to check and prevent this down- 
ward tendency is by furnishing the child's mind with a 
store of good ideas, as a basis for the imagination to work 
upon. If we fill the mind with the good there will be no 
room for the evil, and in doing this, experience has shown 
that nothing is so effective as an abundance of good 
reading, especially the reading of poetry. 

To emphasize the importance of this stimulation and 
training of the imagination, let me add the following 
definitions : 

"The imagination is the organ of the heart and opens 
up the way for reason." — G. Stanley Hall. 

"The imagination is that power of the mind which com- 
bines and arranges, with more or less symmetry and pro- 
portion, that which primarily comes into the mind through 
the senses." — Dr. Francis Parker. 

Children should read poetry because it stimulates the 
emotions and trains the will. The power of poetry over 
the emotions is due, in part, to its form. The same facts 
or ideas embodied in prose do not stimulate the emotions 
in the same manner or to an equal degree. For example, 



i6 INTRODUCTION 

"Evangeline," in prose, would have quite another effect. 
Poetry in general does not perhaps excite the passions to 
the same degree of intensity as some works of fiction. 
The stimulation produced by good poetry is calmer and 
more even than that produced by the most vivid pieces 
of fiction. For this very reason, poetry is better adapted 
to the training of the will and the character through 
the emotions, than the more exciting novels. For this 
reason, too, great care should be exercised in the choice 
of the prose fiction which a child is allowed to read. On 
the other hand, there is extant practically no English 
poetry suitable for children which can be in the slightest 
degree harmful; certainly none such is to be found in 
this series. 

Now the will, that power which transmutes character 
into act, is governed mainly by the emotions. The heart 
is a far more powerful and a readier responding instru- 
ment than the head. " Out of the abundance of the heart 
the mouth speaketh," and "As a man thinketh in his 
heart so is he." 

Children should read and memorize poetry because it is 
the best means oj developing the religious nature. On this 
point I cannot do better than to quote from a speech of 
Dr. Charles W. Eliot, president of Harvard University.* 
He says: 

(* Dr. Eliot speaks from the standpoint of a particular church, but 
what he says is universally applicable.) 



INTRODUCTION 17 

"Is there any universally applicable method through 
which we can insure in little children the unconscious 
reception of the leading ideas of the (Christian) faith? 
I believe there is, and I believe that this method should 
be used in all (Christian) famihes and all (Christian) 
churches. It is the method of committing poetry to 
memory. I heard Dr. Crothers quoting somebody last 
Sunday to the etTect that rehgion is poetry; but somebody 
else amended that statement b}' saying that religion is 
poetry believed. The amendment is important. Can we 
put into the childish mind through poetry a religion it 
will believe? We may be perfectly certain that no child 
ever got any religion out of a catechism. It takes an 
adult with the tendency to metaphysics to get anything 
out of catechism. Will not a child unconsciously get 
religion out of poetry, if it be well selected ? I have seen 
the experiment tried in a fair number of instances — not 
enough instances for a general conclusion, but in a fair 
number of instances — and never knew it to fail. In 
order to give you an impression of the actual working of 
the method, I must enter into a few particulars. Take 
such a poem as Longfellow's 'Village Blacksmith,' a very 
simple poem of universal sentiments, and let the child, at 
an appropriate age, commit the whole of it to memory, 
so that it can recite it whenever asked for. Some of the 
most fundamental conceptions of religion, some of the 
most fundamental conceptions of the new science of soci- 



i8 INTRODUCTION 

ology, will enter the child's mind with that poem. Of 
course, as in all poetry, a great deal of what we may call 
information, or suggested knowledge, is conveyed in even 
a single verse. Take the verse: 

" 'He hears his daughter's voice 
Singing in the village choir. 
And it makes his heart rejoice. 

" 'It sounds to him like her mother's voice 
Singing in Paradise.' 

"Now the child eight or ten years old will take that all 
in, and will learn from it that the blacksmith had a 
daughter who could sing, and she sang sweetly in the vil- 
lage choir; and the blacksmith had had a wife whom he 
loved tenderly and she was dead, and she sang when with 
him, and now she was singing in a happy next world, in 
Paradise; and the blacksmith liked to go to church be- 
cause he heard his daughter, who reminded him of her 
mother. All that is in that little verse ; and it is a beauti- 
ful picture of some of the best parts of human experience. 

"Take another poem, very well known to us all, but 
seldom used, it seems to me, for children: Leigh Hunt's 
'Abou Ben Adhem' ('May his tribe increase')! There 
is a poem that any child of en years old will take in, and 
i presents a series of delightful pictures; and at the end 



INTRODUCTION 19 

comes a very compact statement of the whole (Christian) 
theory about character. 

"Another invaluable poem for religious education is 
Bryant's 'Waterfowl.' The whole (Christian) view of the 
Providence of God is presented to the child in that lovely 
poem — God is guiding the bird through the pathless air, 
and just as he guides the bird he will guide me. It is the 
simplest possible presentation to a child's mind of the 
loving Fatherhood of God." 

The importance of what Dr. Eliot has said is empha- 
sized by the fact that the use of the Bible is not permitted 
in our public schools. Teachers must therefore take ad- 
vantage of every opportunity furnished by the literature 
read or otherwise to "point a moral." Hitherto our 
schools have not been sufficiently supplied with literature 
well fitted to form a basis for moral instruction. This 
deficiency, it is hoped, these little books will help 
diminish. 

The reding oj poetry by the young not only nourishes 
the mind and develops the moral and religious nature, hut 
it ojfers the most efficient means of creating a taste for good 
reading. The modem civihzed man is bound to read 
something, and the field of literature is so broad that it 
offers material to satisfy the needs and tastes of every 
intelligence. But, unfortunately, the field of bad fitera- 
ture is equally extensive, and is apt to be preferred by 
those whose early literary training has been neglected. 



20 INTRODUCTION 

Unfortunately, too, a taste for good reading is generally 
formed early in life or not at all. Early, far too early, the 
harsh hand of stern necessity or the flattering caress of 
frivolous pleasure is laid upon youth to deflect it from the 
laborious but profitable path which leads to true culture. 
Let parents and teachers, therefore, look to it that the 
feet of the young child are early set in the straight path 
which leads to the Elysian fields of good literature. 

Melvin Hix. 



ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON 

Robert Louis Stevenson was born at Edinburgh, No- 
vember 13, 1850. He died at Apia, Samoa, December 3, 
1894. His father, Thomas S. Stevenson, was an en- 
gineer in the Scotch lighthouse service. 

Mr. Stevenson wished his son to become a civil engineer. 
Robert accordingly spent three and a half years at the 
University of Edinburgh in preparation for that profes- 
sion. At the end of that time he decided to give up en- 
gineering and began the study of law. In July, 1875, he 
was admitted to practice. 

At the age of twenty-three he was attacked by con- 
sumption, a disease from which he never entirely recov- 
ered. By the orders of his physician, he spent the follow- 
ing winter in the South of France. Although shghtly 
benefited by the trip, his health remained delicate and, 
during the remainder of his life, he spent a great part of 
his time wandering from country to country seeking a 
chmate which would restore his health, or, at least, check 
the progress of disease. He visited the United States 
several times. In California he met Mrs. Mary Osbourne, 
a widow, to whom he was married in the spring of 1880. 



22 INTRODUCTION 

In 1888 he chartered a yacht for a voyage among the 
tropical islands of the Pacific. After a dehghtful cruise 
lasting several months, he returned to Scotland, but, 
finding that he could not endure the severe climate of 
that country, he decided to establish himself at Apia, on 
the island of Samoa, where he died four years later. 

The character of Robert Louis Stevenson can scarcely 
be too highly praised. Living constantly in the very 
Valley of the Shadow of Death, he faced life bravely and 
cheerfully. Always extremely polite to others, his poUte- 
ness was merely the outward expression of a kindly heart. 
Wherever he went he made friends and such was the 
evenness of his genial disposition that the friends he made 
he kept. When other men would have given up all labor, 
he kept steadily at work at his self-chosen profession — 
the writing of books; and such was his command over 
himself, that the sickliness of his body never tainted the 
products of his mind. 

From his earliest boyhood he wished to become a writer. 
He was not a genius, but by dihgence and perseverance 
he became one of the great writers of his time. In one 
of his delightful essays he describes his method of learning 
to write. He says: 

"All through my boyhood and youth, I was known 
and pointed out for the pattern of an idler; and yet I 
was always busy on my own private end, which was to 
learn to write. I kept always two books in my pocket, 



INTRODUCTION 23 

one to read, one to write in. As I walked, my mind was 
busy fitting what I saw with appropriate words; when I 
sat by the roadside, I would either read, or a pencil and 
a penny version-book would be in my hand, to note down 
the features of the scene or commemorate some halting 
stanza. Thus I lived with words. And what I thus 
wrote was for no ulterior use, it was written consciously 
for practice. It was not so much that I wished to be an 
author (though I wished that, too) as that I had vowed that 
I would learn to write. That was a proficiency that 
tempted me; and I practiced to acquire it, as men learn 
to whittle, in a wager with myself. Description was the 
principle field of my exercise: for to any one with senses 
there is always something worth describing, and town 
and country are but one continuous subject. 

"That, like it or not, is the way to learn to write ; whether 
I have profited or not, that is the way. It was so Keats 
learned, and there was never a finer temperament for 
literature than Keats's; it was so, if we would trace it 
out, that all men have learned. . . . Perhaps I hear 
some one cry out: * But this is not the way to be original.' 
It is not; nor is there any way but to be born so. Nor 
yet, if you are born original, is there anything in this 
training that shall chp the wings of your originahty." 

At first, notwithstanding all his care and dihgence, 
Stevenson found it difficult to get his writings pub- 
lished; and when, at last, his work began to find place 



24 INTRODUCTION 

in British magazines, it was not received with any great 
degree of favor. By dint of pluck and perseverance he 
gradually gained in public favor, and finally became one 
of the popular writers of his day. His earlier works con- 
sisted of essays and romances. Of the latter "Treasure 
Island," a book of adventure, is most widely knowoi. 

In 1885 he pubhshed "A Child's Garden of Verses," 
and later two or three other volumes of poetry. Of all 
his verse, his first volume was, by far, the best. Of this 
volume, Mr. E. C. Stedman, than whom no one is a more 
competent judge, speaks as follows: 

"Now, as a minor but genuine example of poetic art, 
not alone for art's sake, but for dear nature's sake 
— in the light of whose maternal smile all art must thrive 
and blossom if at all — take 'A Child's Garden of Verses,' 
by Stevenson. This is a real addition to the lore for chil- 
dren, and to that for man, to whom the child is father. 
The flowers of this httle garden spring from the sur- 
plusage of a genius that creates nothing void of charm 
and originality. Thanks, then, for the fresh, pure touch, 
for the revelation of childhood with its vision of the lands 
of Nod and Counterpane, and of those next-door Foreign 
Lands spied from cherry-tree top, and beyond the treUised 
wall." 



A Child's Garden of Verses 



TO ALISON CUNNINGHAM 
(From Her Boy) 

For the long nights you lay awake 
And watched for my unworthy sake: 
For your most comfortable hand 
That led me through the uneven land: 
For all the story-books you read : 
For all the pains you comforted: 
For all you pitied, all you bore, 
In sad and happy days of yore: — 
My second Mother, my first Wife, 
The angel of my infant life — 
From the sick child, now well and old, 
Take, nurse, the httle book you hold! 

25 



26 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

And grant it, Heaven, that all who read 
May find as dear a nurse at need, 
And every child who lists my rhyme, 
In the bright, fireside, nursery clime, 
May hear it in as kind a voice 
As made my childish days rejoice! 



TO MY MOTHER 

You, too, my mother, read my rhymes 
For love of unforgotten times, 
And you may chance to hear once more 
The little feet along the floor. 

AT THE SEASIDE 

When I was down beside the sea 
A wooden spade they gave to me 

To dig the sandy shore. 
My holes were empty like a cup, 
In every hole the sea came up. 

Till it could come no more. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 37 

TIME TO RISE 
A birdie with a yellow bill 
Hopped upon the window-sill, 
Cocked his shining eye and said: 
"Ain't you 'shamed, you sleepy-head?" 

A THOUGHT 
It is very nice to think 
The world is full of meat and drink. 
With little children saying grace 
In every Christian kind of place. 

WHOLE DUTY OF CHILDREN 
A child should always say what's true 
And speak when he is spoken to. 
And behave mannerly at table: 
At least as far as he is able. 

HAPPY THOUGHT 

The world is so full of a number of things, 
I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings. 



28 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

AUNTIE'S SKIRTS 
Whenever Auntie moves around 
Her dresses make a curious sound, 
They trail behind her on the floor, 
And trundle after through the door. 

SYSTEM 
Every night my prayers I say. 
And get my dinner every day; 
And every day that I've been good, 
I get an orange after food. 

The child that is not clean and neat, 
With lots of toys and things to eat, 
He is a naughty child, I'm sure — 
Or else his dear papa is poor. 

LOOKING FORWARD 
When I am grown to man's estate 
I shall be very proud and great, 
And tell the other girls and boys 
Not to meddle with my toys. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 29 

RAIN 
The rain is raining all around, 

It falls on field and tree, 
It rains on the umbrellas here, 

And on the ships at sea. 

THE COW 

The friendly cow all red and white, 

I love with all my heart: 
She gives me cream with all her might. 

To eat with apple-tart. 

She wanders lowing here and there. 

And yet she cannot stray, 
All in the pleasant open air. 

The pleasant light of day; 

And blown by all the winds that pass 

And wet with all the showers. 
She walks among the meadow grass 

And eats the meadow flowers. 



30 A GARDEN OF VERSES 



A GOOD BOY 



I woke before the morning, 

I was happy all the day, 
I never said an ugly word, 

But smiled and stuck to play. 

And now at last the sun 

Is going down behind the wood. 
And I am very happy, 

For I know that I've been good. 

My bed is waiting cool and fresh, 
With Hnen smooth and fair, 

And I must off to sleepsin-by. 
And not forget my prayer. 

I know that, till to-morrow 

I shall see the sun arise. 
No ugly dream shall fright my mind, 

No ugly sight my eyes. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 31 

But slumber hold me tightly 

Till I waken in the dawn, 
And hear the thrushes singing 

In the Hlacs round the lawn. 



THE SWING 

How do you like to go up in a swing, 

Up in the air so blue ? 
Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing 

Ever a child can do! 

Up in the air and over the wall, 

Till I can see so wide, 
Rivers and trees and cattle and all 

Over the countryside — 

Till I look down on the garden green, 
Down on the roof so brown — 

Up in the air I go flying again, 
Up in the air and down! 



32 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

GOOD AND BAD CHILDREN 

Children, you are very little, 
And your bones are very brittle; 
If you would grow great and stately, 
You must try to walk sedately. 

You must still be bright and quiet, 
And content with simple diet; 
And remain, through all bewild'ring, 
Innocent and honest children. 

Happy hearts and happy faces, 
Happy play in grassy places — 
That was how, in ancient ages. 
Children grew to kings and sages. 

But the unkind and the unruly, 
And the sort who eat unduly. 
They must never hope for glory — 
Theirs is quite a different story! 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 33 

Cruel children, crying babies, 
All grow up as geese and gabies, 
Hated, as their age increases, 
By their nephews and their nieces. 



THE SUN'S TRAVELS 

The sun is not a-bed when I 

At night upon my pillow He; 

Still round the earth his way he takes, 

And morning after morning makes. 

While here at home, in shining day. 
We round the sunny garden play. 
Each Httle Indian sleepy-head 
Is being kissed and put to bed. 

And when at eve I rise from tea. 
Day dawns beyond the Atlantic Sea; 
And all the children in the West 
Are getting up and being dressed. 



34 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

MARCHING SONG 

Bring the comb and play upon it! 

Marching, here we come! 
WilHe cocks his highland bonnet, 

Johnnie beats the drum. 

Mary Jane commands the party, 

Peter leads the rear; 
Feet in time, alert and hearty, 

Each a Grenadier! 

All in the most martial manner 

Marching double-quick; 
While the napkin like a banner 

Waves upon the stick! 

Here's enough of fame and pillage, 

Great commander Jane! 
Now that we Ve been round the village. 

Let's go home again. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 35 



A GOOD PLAY 

We built a ship upon the stairs 
All made of the back-bedroom chairs. 
And filled it full of sofa pillows 
To go a-sailing on the billows. 

We took a saw and several nails, 
And water in the nursery pails; 
And Tom said, "Let us also take 
An apple and a shce of cake"; — 
Which was enough for Tom and me 
To go a-saihng on, till tea. 

We sailed along for days and days, 
And had the very best of plays; 
But Tom fell out and hurt his knee. 
So there was no one left but me. 



36 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

MY SHADOW 

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me, 
And what can be the use of him is more than I 

can see. 
He is very, very like me from the heels up to 

the head; 
And I see him jump before me when I jump 

into my bed. 

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes 
to grow — 

Not at all like proper children, which is always 
very slow; 

For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India- 
rubber ball, 

And he sometimes gets so little that there's none 
of him at all. 

He hasn't got a notion of how children ought to 

play. 
And can only make a fool of me in every sort 

of way. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 37 

He Stays so close beside me, he's a coward you 

can see; 
I 'd think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow 

sticks to me! 

One morning, very early, before the sun was up, 

I rose and found the shining dew on every butter- 
cup; 

But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy- 
head. 

Had stayed at home behind me and was fast 
asleep in bed. 



FAIRY BREAD 

Come up here, O dusty feet! 
Here is fairy bread to eat; 

Here in my retiring room, 
Children, you may dine 

On the golden smell of broom 
And the shade of pine; 

And when you have eaten well, 

Fairy stories hear and tell. 



38 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE 

When I was sick and lay a-bed, 
I had two pillows at my head, 
And all my toys beside me lay 
To keep me happy all the day. 

And sometimes for an hour or so 
I watched my leaden soldiers go, 
With different uniforms and drills, 
Among the bed-clothes, through the hills. 

And sometimes sent my ships in fleets 
All up and down among the sheets; 
Or brought my trees and houses out, 
And planted cities all about. 

I was the giant great and still 

That sits upon the pillow-hill, 
And sees before him, dale and plain, 
The pleasant Land of Counterpane. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 39 

THE WIND 

I saw you toss the kites on high 
And blow the birds about the sky; 
And all around I heard you pass, 
Like ladies' skirts across the grass — 

O wind, a-b lowing all day long! 

O wind, that sings so loud a song! 

I saw the different things you did. 
But always you yourself you hid. 
I felt you push, I heard you call, 
I could not see yourself at all — 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song! 

O you that are so strong and cold, 
O blower, are you young or old ? 
Are you a beast of field and tree, 
Or just a stronger child than me ? 
O wind, a-blowing all day long, 
O wind, that sings so loud a song! 



40 A GARDEN OF VERSES 



SUMMER SUN 



Great is the sun, and wide he goes 
Through empty heaven without repose; 
And in the blue and glowing days 
More thick than rain he showers his rays. 

Though closer still the blinds we pull 
To keep the shady parlor cool, 
Yet he will find a chink or two 
To slip his golden fingers through. 

The dusty attic spider-clad 
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad; 
And through the broken edge of tiles, 
Into the laddered hayloft smiles. 

Meantime his golden face around 
He bares to all the garden ground. 
And sheds a warm and ghttering look 
Among the ivy's inmost nook. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 41 

Above the hills, along the blue, 
Round the bright air with footing true. 
To please the child, to paint the rose, 
The gardener of the World, he goes. 



THE MOON 

The moon has a face Hke the clock in the hall; 
She shines on the thieves on the garden wail, 
On streets and fields and harbor quays. 
And birdies asleep in the forks of the trees. 

The squalling cat and the squeaking mouse. 
The howling dog by the door of the house. 
The bat that lies in bed at noon. 
All love to be out by the light of the moon. 

But all of the things that belong to the day 
Cuddle to sleep to be out of her way; 
And flowers and children close their eyes 
Till up in the morning the sun shall arise. 



42 A GARDEN OF VERSES 



WINTER-TIME 



Late lies the wintry sun a-bed, 

A frosty, fiery sleepy-head; 

Blinks but an hour or two; and then, 

A blood-red orange, sets again. 

Before the stars have left the skies, 
At morning in the dark I rise; 
And shivering in my nakedness. 
By the cold candle, bathe and dress. 

Close by the jolly fire I sit 
To warm my frozen bones a bit; 
Or with a reindeer-sled, explore 
The colder countries round the door. 

When to go out, my nurse doth wrap 
Me in my comforter and cap; 
The cold wind burns my face, and blows 
Its frosty pepper up my nose. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 43 

Black are my steps on silver sod; 
Thick blows my frosty breath abroad; 
And tree and house, and hill and lake, 
Are frosted like a wedding-cake. 



BED IN SUMMER 

In winter I get up at night 
And dress by yellow candle-light. 
In summer, quite the other way, 
I have to go to bed by day. 

I have to go to bed and see 
The birds still hopping on the tree, 
Or hear the grown-up people's feet 
Still going past me in the street. 

And does it not seem hard to you. 
When all the sky is clear and blue. 
And I should like so much to play. 
To have to go to bed by day ? 



44 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

NIGHT AND DAY 

When the golden day is done, 
Through the closing portal, 

Child and garden, flower and sun, 
Vanish all things mortal. 

As the blinding shadows fall, 

As the rays diminish, 
Under evening's cloak, they all 

Roll away and vanish. 

Garden darkened, daisy shut, 
Child in bed, they slumber — 

Glow-worm in the highway rut, 
Mice among the lumber. 

In the darkness houses shine. 
Parents move with candles; 

Till on all, the night divine 
Turns the bedroom handles. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 

Till at last the day begins 

In the east a-breaking, 
In the hedges and the whins 

Sleeping birds a-waking. 

In the darkness shapes of things, 
Houses, trees and hedges, 

Clearer grow; and sparrows' wings 
Beat on window ledges. 

These shall wake the yawning maid; 

She the door shall open — 
Finding dew on garden glade 

And the morning broken. 

There my garden grows again 

Green and rosy painted. 
As at eve behind the pane 

From my eyes it fainted. 

Just as it was shut away. 

Toy-like, in the even. 
Here I see it glow with day 

Under glowing heaven. 



45 



46 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

Every path and every plot, 

Every bush of roses, 
Every blue forget-me-not 

Where the dew reposes, 

"Up!" they cry, "the day is come 
On the smiling valleys; 
We have beat the morning drum; 
Playmate, join your allies!" 



SINGING 

Of speckled eggs the birdie sings 
And nests among the trees; 

The sailor sings of ropes and things 
In ships upon the seas. 

The children sing in far Japan, 
The children sing in Spain; 

The organ with the organ man 
Is singing in the rain. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 47 

MY BED IS A BOAT 

My bed is like a little boat; 

Nurse helps me in when I embark; 
She girds me in my sailor's coat 

And starts me in the dark. 

At night, I go on board and say 

Good-night to all my friends on shore; 

I shut my eyes and sail away 
And see and hear no more. 

And sometimes things to bed I take, 
As prudent sailors have to do; 

Perhaps a slice of wedding-cake. 
Perhaps a toy or two. 

All night across the dark we steer; 

But when the day returns at last, 
Safe in my room, beside the pier, 

I find my vessel fast. 



48 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

YOUNG NIGHT THOUGHT 

All night long and every night, 
When my mamma puts out the light, 
I see the people marching by, 
As plain as day, before my eye. 

Armies and emperors and kings. 
All carrying different kinds of things, 
And marching in so grand a way, 
You never saw the like by day. 

So fine a show was never seen 
At the great circus on the green; 
For every kind of beast and man 
Is marching in that caravan. 

At first they move a httle slow, 
But still the faster on they go. 
And still beside them close I keep, 
Until we reach the Town of Sleep, 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 49 

THE LAMPLIGHTER 

My tea is nearly ready and the sun has left the sky; 
It's time to take the window to see Leerie going by ; 
For every night at tea-time and before you take 

your seat, 
With lantern and with ladder he comes posting 

up the street. 
Now Tom would be a driver and Maria go to sea, 
And my papa's a banker and as rich as he can be; 
But I, when I am stronger, and can choose what 

I'm to do, 
O Leerie, I'll go round at night and light the 

lamps with you. 

For we are very lucky, with a lamp before the 
door. 

And Leerie stops to light it as he lights so many 
more; 

And O! before you hurry by with ladder and 
with light, 

O Leerie, see a little child and nod to him to- 
night! 



50 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

THE LAND OF STORY-BOOKS 

At evening when the lamp is lit, 
Around the fire my parents sit; 
They sit at home and talk and sing, 
And do not play at anything. 

Now, with my little gun, I crawl 
All in the dark along the wall. 
And follow round the forest track 
Away behind the sofa back. 

There, in the night, where none can spy. 
All in my hunter's camp I lie. 
And play at books that I have read 
Till it is time to go to bed. 

These are the hills, these are the woods, 
These are my starry soUtudes; 
And there the river by whose brink 
The roaring lions come to drink. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 51 

I see the others far away 
As if in firelit camp they lay, 
And I, like to an Indian scout, 
Around their party prowled about. 

So, when my nurse comes in for me, 
Home I return across the sea, 
And go to bed with backward looks 
At my dear Land of Story-books. 



ARMIES IN THE FIRE 

The lamps now glitter down the street; 
Faintly sound the falling feet; 
And the blue even slowly falls 
About the garden trees and walls. 

Now in the falling of the gloom 
The red fire paints the empty room: 
And warmly on the roof it looks. 
And flickers on the backs of books. 



52 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 



Armies march by tower and spire 
Of cities blazing, in the fire; — 
Till as I gaze with staring eyes. 
The armies fade, the lustre dies. 

Then once again the glow returns; 
Again the phantom city burns; 
And down the red-hot valley, lo! 
The phantom armies marching go! 

Blinking embers, tell me true 
Where are those armies marching to, 
And what the burning city is 
That crumbles in your furnaces! 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 53 

ESCAPE AT BEDTIME 

The lights from the parlor and kitchen shone out 
Through the blinds and the windows and bars; 

And high overhead and all moving about, 
There were thousands of millions of stars. 

There ne'er were such thousands of leaves on a 
tree, 
Nor of people in church or the Park, 
As the crowds of the stars that looked down 
upon me, 
And that glittered and winked in the dark. 

The Dog, and the Plough, and the Hunter, and all, 
And the star of the sailor, and Mars, 

These shone in the sky, and the pail by the wall 
Would be half full of water and stars. 

They saw me at last, and they chased me with 
cries. 

And they soon had me packed into bed; 
But the glory kept shining and bright in my eyes, 

And the stars going round in my head. 



54 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 

THE LAND OF NOD 

From breakfast on through all the day 
At home among my friends I stay, 
But every night I go abroad 
Afar into the Land of Nod. 

All by myself I have to go, 

With none to tell me what to do — 

All alone beside the streams 

And up the mountain-sides of dreams. 

The strangest things are there for me, 
Both things to eat and things to see. 
And many frightening sights abroad 
Till morning in the Land of Nod. 

Try as I like to find the way, 
I never can get back by day, 
Nor can remember plain and clear 
The curious music that I hear. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 55 

NORTH-WEST PASSAGE 
I. Good-night 

When the bright lamp is carried in, 
The sunless hours again begin; 
O'er all without, in field and lane, 
The haunted night returns again. 

Now we behold the embers flee 
About the firelit hearth; and see 
Our faces painted as we pass. 
Like pictures, on the window-glass. 

Must we to bed indeed .? Well, then, 
Let us arise and go like men, 
And face with an undaunted tread 
The long black passage up to bed. 

Farewell, O brother, sister, sire! 
O pleasant party round the fire! 
The songs you sing, the tales you tell. 
Till far to-morrow, fare ye well! 



S6 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

II. Shadow March 
All round the house is the jet-black night; 

It stares through the window-pane; 
It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light, 

And it moves with the moving flame. 

Now my Httle heart goes a-b eating like a drum. 
With the breath of the Bogie in my hair, 

And all round the candle the crooked shadows 
come. 
And go marching along up the stair. 

The shadow of the balusters, the shadow of the 
lamp, 
The shadow of the child that goes to bed — 
All the wicked shadows coming, tramp, tramp, 
tramp, 
With the black night overhead. 

III. In Port 
Last, to the chamber where I lie 
My fearful footsteps patter nigh. 
And come from out the cold and gloom 
Into my warm and cheerful room. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 57 

There, safe arrived, we turn about 
To keep the coming shadows out, 
And close the happy door at last 
On all the perils that we past. 

Then, when mamma goes by to bed, 
She shall come in with tip-toe tread, 
And see me lying warm and fast 
And in the Land of Nod at last. 



KEEPSAKE MILL 

Over the borders, a sin without pardon. 
Breaking the branches and crawling below. 

Out through the breach in the wall of the garden, 
Down by the banks of the river we go. 

Here is the mill with the humming of thunder. 
Here is the weir with the wonder of foam. 

Here is the sluice with the race running under — • 
Marvelous places, though handy to home! 



58 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller, 
Stiller the note of the birds on the hill; 

Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller, 
Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill. 

Years may go by, and the wheel in the river 
Wheel as it wheels for us, children, to-day. 

Wheel and keep roaring and foaming forever — 
Long after all of the boys are away. 

Home from the Indies and home from the ocean. 
Heroes and soldiers we all shall come home; 

Still we shall find the old mill wheel in motion. 
Turning and churning that river to foam. 

You with the bean that I gave when we quarreled, 
I with your marble of Saturday last, 

Honored and old and all gaily appareled. 
Here we shall meet and remember the past. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 59 

NEST EGGS 
Birds all the sunny day flutter and quarrel 
Here in the arbor-like tent of the laurel. 

Here in the fork the brown nest is seated; 
Four little blue eggs the mother keeps heated. 

While we stand watching her, staring like gabies, 
Safe in each egg are the bird's little babies. 

Soon the frail eggs they shall chip, and up- 
springing, 

Make all the April woods merry with singing. 

Younger than we are, O children, and frailer, 
Soon in blue air they'll be, singer and sailor. 

We, so much older, taller and stronger, 

We shall look down on the birdies no longer. 

They shall go flying with musical speeches 
High overhead in the tops of the beeches. 

In spite of our wisdom and sensible talking, 
We on our feet must go plodding and walking. 



6o A GARDEN OF VERSES 

HISTORICAL ASSOCIATIONS 

Dear Uncle Jim, this garden ground 
That now you smoke your pipe around, 
Has seen immortal actions done 
And vahant battles lost and won. 

Here we had best on tip-toe tread, 
While I for safety march ahead, 
For this is that enchanted ground 
Where all who loiter slumber sound. 

Here is the sea, here is the sand, 
Here is the simple Shepherd's Land, 
Here are the fairy hollyhocks. 
And there are Ah Baba's rocks. 

But yonder, see! apart and high. 
Frozen Siberia lies; where I, 
With Robert Bruce and William Tell, 
Was bound by an enchanter's spell. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 6i 

THE FLOWERS 

All the names I know from nurse: 
Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse, 
Bachelor's buttons. Lady's smock, 
And the Lady Hollyhock. 

Fairy places, fairy things, 
Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, 
Tiny trees for tiny dames — 
These must all be fairy names! 

Tiny woods below whose boughs 
Shady fairies weave a house; 
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme. 
Where the braver fairies climb! 

Fair are grown-up people's trees, 
But the fairest woods are these; 
Where, if I were not so tall, 
I should live for good and all. 



62 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

THE GARDENER 

The gardener does not love to talk, 
He makes me keep the gravel walk; 
And when he puts his tools away, 
He locks the door and takes the key. 

Away behind the currant row 
Where no one else but cook may go. 
Far in the plots, I see him dig, 
Old and serious, brown and big. 

He digs the flowers, green, red and blue. 
Nor wishes to be spoken to. 
He digs the flowers and cuts the hay. 
And never seems to want to play. 

Silly gardener! summer goes. 
And winter comes with pinching toes, 
When in the garden bare and brown 
You must lay your barrow down. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 63 

Well now, and while the summer stays, 
To profit by these garden days, 
O how much wiser you would be 
To play at Indian wars with me! 



AUTUMN FIRES 

In the other gardens, 

And all up the vale, 
From the autumn bonfires 

See the smoke trail! 

Pleasant summer over. 

And all the summer flowers, 
The red fire blazes. 

The gray smoke towers. 

Sing a song of seasons! 

Something bright in all! 
Flowers in the summer, 

Fires in the fall! 



64 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

MY TREASURES 
These nuts, that I keep in the back of the nest 
Where all my lead soldiers are lying at rest, 
Were gathered in autumn by nursie and me 
In a wood with a well by the side of the sea. 

This whistle we made (and how clearly it 

sounds!) 
By the side of a field at the end of the grounds; 
Of a branch of a plane, with a knife of my own, 
It was nursie who made it, and nursie alone! 

The stone, with the white and the yellow and 

gray, 
We discovered I cannot tell how far away; 
And I carried it back, although weary and cold, 
For though father denies it, I'm sure it is gold. 

But of all my treasures the last is the king, 
For there's very few children possess such a 

thing; 
And that is a chisel, both handle and blade. 
Which a man who was really a carpenter made. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 65 

THE DUMB SOLDIER 

When the grass was closely mown, 
Walking on the lawn alone, 
In the turf a hole I found 
And hid a soldier underground. 

Spring and daisies come apace; 
Grasses hide my hiding place; 
Grasses run like a green sea 
O'er the lawn up to my knee. 

Under grass alone he lies, 
Looking up with leaden eyes, 
Scarlet coat and pointed gun. 
To the stars and to the sun. 

When the grass is ripe like grain, 
When the scythe is stoned again. 
When the lawn is shaven clear. 
Then my hole shall reappear. 



66 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

I shall find him, never fear, 
I shall find my grenadier; 
But for all that's gone and come, 
I shall find my soldier dumb. 

He has lived, a little thing. 
In the grassy woods of spring; 
Done, if he could tell me true, 
Just as I should like to do. 

He has seen the starry hours 
And the springing of the flowers; 
And the fairy things that pass 
In the forests of the grass. 

In the silence he has heard 
Talking bee and ladybird. 
And the butterfly has flown 
O'er him as he lay alone. 

Not a word will he disclose. 
Not a word of all he knows. 
I must lay him on the shelf. 
And make up the tale myself. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 67 

PICTURE-BOOKS IN WINTER 

Summer fading, winter comes — 
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, 
Window robins, winter rooks, 
And the picture story-books. 

Water now is turned to stone 
Nurse and I can walk upon; 
Still we find the flowing brooks 
In the picture story-books. 

All the pretty things put by, 
Wait upon the children's eye. 
Sheep and shepherds, trees and crooks. 
In the picture-story-books. 

We may see how all things are 
Seas and cities, near and far, 
And the flying fairies' looks, 
In the picture story-books. 



68 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

How am I to sing your praise, 
Happy chimney-corner days, 
Sitting safe in nursery nooks, 
Reading picture story-books ? 



WINDY NIGHTS 

Whenever the moon and stars are set. 

Whenever the wind is high, 
All night long in the dark and wet, 

A man goes riding by. 
Late in the night when the fires are out. 
Why does he gallop and gallop about ? 

Whenever the trees are crying aloud, 

And ships are tossed at sea. 
By, on the highway, low and loud, 

By at the gallop goes he. 
By at the gallop he goes, and then 
By he comes back at the gallop again. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 69 

PIRATE STORY 

Three of us afloat in the meadow by the swing, 

Three of us aboard in the basket on the lea. 

Winds are in the air, they are blowing in the 

spring, 
And waves are on the meadow like the waves 

there are at sea. 

Where shall we adventure, to-day that we're 
afloat, 

Wary of the weather and steering by a star ? 
Shall it be to Africa, a-steering of the boat, 

To Providence, or Babylon, or off^ to Malabar .? 

Hi! but here's a squadron a-rowing on the sea — 

Cattle on the meadow a-charging with a roar! 

Quick, and we'll escape them, they're as mad 

as they can be, 

The wicket is the harbor and the garden is the 

shore. 



70 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

BLOCK CITY 

What are you able to build with your blocks ? 
Castles and palaces, temples and docks. 
Rain may keep raining, and others go roam, 
But I can be happy and building at home. 

Let the sofa be mountain, the carpet be sea, 

There I'll establish a city for me: 

A kirk and a mill and a palace beside, 

And a harbor as well where my vessels may ride. 

Great is the palace with pillar and wall, 
A sort of a tower on the top of it all, 
And steps coming down in an orderly way 
To where my toy vessels lie safe in the bay. 

This one is sailing and that one is moored: 
Hark to the song of the sailors on board ! 
And see on the steps of my palace, the kings 
Coming and going with presents and things! 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 71 

Now I have done with it, down let it go! 
All in a moment the town is laid low. 
Block upon block lying scattered and free, 
What is there left of my town by the sea ? 

Yet as I saw it, I see it again, 
The kirk and the palace, the ships and the men, 
And as long as I live and where'er I may be, 
I'll always remember my town by the sea. 



LOOKING-GLASS RIVER 

Smooth it slides upon its travel. 
Here a wimple, there a gleam 

O the clean gravel! 
O the smooth stream! 

Sailing blossoms, silver fishes, 
Paven pools as clear as air — 

How a child wishes 
To live down there! 



72 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

We can see our colored faces 
Floating on the shaken pool 

Down in cool places, 
Dim and very cool; 

Till a wind or water wrinkle, 
Dipping marten, plumping trout, 

Spreads in a wrinkle 
And blots all out. 

See the rings pursue each other; 

All below grows black as night, 
Just as if mother 

Had blown out the light! 

Patience, children, just a minute — 
See the spreading circles die; 

The stream and all in it 
Will clear by-and-by. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 73 

WHERE GO THE BOATS? 

Dark brown is the river, 

Golden is the sand. 
It flows along for ever, 

With trees on either hand. 

Green leaves a-floating. 

Castles of the foam, 
Boats of mine a-boating — 

Where will all come home ? 

On goes the river 

And out past the mill, 
Away down the valley. 

Away down the hill. 

Away down the river, 

A hundred miles or more, 

Other little children 

Shall bring my boats ashore. 



74 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

MY SHIP AND I 

O it's I that am the captain of a tidy little ship, 

Of a ship that goes a-sailing on the pond; 
And my ship it keeps a-turning all around and 

all about; 
But when I'm a little older, I shall find the 
secret out 
How to send my vessel sailing on beyond. 

For I mean to grow as little as the dolly at the 
helm, 
And the dolly I intend to come alive; 
And with him beside to help me, it's a-sailing I 

shall go. 
It's a-sailing on the water, when the jolly breezes 
blow 
And the vessel goes a divie-divie-dive. 

O it's then you'll see me sailing through the 
rushes and the reeds. 
And you'll hear the water singing at the prow; 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 



75 



For beside the dolly sailor, I'm to voyage and 

explore, 
To land upon the island where no dolly was 

before, 
And to fire the penny cannon in the bow. 



MY KINGDOM 

Down by a shining water well 
I found a very little dell, 

No higher than my head. 
The heather and the gorse about 
In summer bloom were coming out, 

Some yellow and some red. 

I called the little pool a sea; 
The little hills were big to me; 

For I am very small. 
I made a boat, I made a town, 
I searched the caverns up and down, 

And named them one and all. 



76 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

And all about was mine, I said, 
The little sparrows overhead, 

The little minnows, too. 
This was the world and I was king. 
For me the bees came by to sing, 

For me the swallows flew. 

I played there were no deeper seas, 
Nor any wider plains than these. 

Nor other kings than me. 
At last I heard my mother call 
Out from the house at evenfall. 

To call me home to tea. 

And I must rise and leave my dell, 
And leave my dimpled water well. 

And leave my heather blooms. 
Alas! and as my home I neared. 
How very big my nurse appeared. 

How great and cool the rooms! 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 77 

THE HAYLOFT 

Through all the pleasant meadow-side 

The grass grew shoulder-high, 
Till the shining scythes went far and wide 

And cut it down to dry. 

These green and sweetly smelling crops 

They led in wagons home; 
And they piled them here in mountain-tops 

For mountaineers to roam. 

Here is Mount Clear, Mount Rusty-Nail, 
Mount Eagle and Mount High; — 

The mice that in these mountains dwell, 
No happier are than I! 

O what a joy to clamber there, 

O what a place for play, 
With the sweet, the dim, the dusty air, 

The happy hills of hay! 



78 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

THE LITTLE LAND 

When at home alone I sit, 
And am very tired of it, 
I have just to shut my eyes 
To go saiUng through the skies - 
To go saiUng far away 
To the pleasant Land of Play; 
To the fairy land afar 
Where the Little People are; 
Where the clover-tops are trees, 
And the rain-pools are the seas, 
And the leaves like little ships 
Sail about on tiny trips; 
And above the daisy tree 

Through the grasses, 
High o'erhead the Bumble Bee 

Hums and passes. 

In that forest to and fro 
I can wander, I can go; 
See the spider and the fly. 
And the ants go marching by 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 79 

Carrying parcels with their feet 

Down the green and grassy street. 

I can in the sorrel sit, 

Where the ladybird alit. 

I can climb the jointed grass; 

And on high 
See the greater swallows pass 

In the sky, 
And the round sun rolling by 
Heeding no such things as I. 

Through that forest I can pass 
Till, as in a looking-glass, 
Humming fly and daisy tree 
And my tiny self I see, 
Painted very clear and neat 
On the rain-pool at my feet. 
Should a leaflet come to land 
Drifting near to where I stand, 
Straight I'll board that tiny boat 
Round the rain-pool sea to float. 



8o A GARDEN OF VERSES 

Little thoughtful creatures sit 
On the grassy coasts of it; 
Little things with lovely eyes 
See me sailing with surprise. 
Some are clad in armor green — 
(These have sure to battle been!) — 
Some are pied with ev'ry hue, 
Black and crimson, gold and blue; 
Some have wings and swift are gone; — 
But they all look kindly on. 

When my eyes I once again 
Open, and see all things plain; 
High bare walls, great bare floor; 
Great big knobs on drawer and door; 
Great big people perched on chairs, 
Stitching tucks and mending tears. 
Each a hill that I could climb. 
And talking nonsense all the time — 

O dear me. 

That I could be 
A sailor on the rain-pool sea, 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 8i 

A climber in the clover tree, 

And just come back, a sleepy-head, 

Late at night to go to bed. 



THE UNSEEN PLAYMATE 

When children are playing alone on the green, 
In comes the playmate that never was seen. 
When children are happy and lonely and good. 
The Friend of the Children comes out of the 
wood. 

Nobody heard him and nobody saw. 
His is the picture you never could draw. 
But he's sure to be present, abroad or at home. 
When children are happy and playing alone. 

He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass. 
He sings when you tinkle the musical glass; 
Whene'er you are happy and cannot tell why, 
The Friend of the Children is sure to be by! 



82 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

He loves to be little, he hates to be big, 
'Tis he that inhabits the caves that you dig; 
*Tis he when you play with your soldiers of tin 
That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win. 

*Tis he, when at night you go off to your bed, 
Bids you go to your sleep and not trouble your 

head; 
For wherever they're lying, in cupboard or shelf, 
'Tis he will take care of your playthings himself! 



TO AUNTIE 
Chief of our aunts — not only I, 
But all your dozen of nurselings cry — 
What did the other children do ? 
And what were childhoody wanting you? 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 83 

FAREWELL TO THE FARM 

The coach is at the door at last; 
The eager children, mounting fast 
And kissing hands, in chorus sing: 
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 

To house and garden, field and .awn, 
The meadow-gates we swang upon, 
To pump and stable, tree and swing. 
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 

And fare you well for evermore, 
O ladder at the hayloft door, 
O hayloft where the cobwebs cling, 
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 

Crack goes the whip, and off we go; 
The trees and houses smaller grow; 
Last, round the woody turn we swing: 
Good-bye, good-bye, to everything! 



84 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

TRAVEL 
I should like to rise and go 
Where the golden apples grow; — 
Where below another sky 
Parrot islands anchored He, 
And, watched by cockatoos and goats, 
Lonely Crusoes building boats; — 
Where in sunshine reaching out 
Eastern cities, miles about, 
Are with mosque and minaret 
Among sandy gardens set. 
And the rich goods from near and far 
Hang for sale in the bazaar; — 
Where the Great Wall round China 

goes. 
And on one side the desert blows, 
And with bell and voice and drum, 
Cities on the other hum; — 
Where are forests, hot as fire. 
Wide as England, tall as a spire, 
Full of apes and cocoanuts 
And the negro hunters' huts; — 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 85 

Where the knotty crocodile 
Lies and bHnks in the Nile, 
And the red flamingo flies 
Hunting fish before his eyes; — 
Where in jungles, near and far, 
Man-devouring tigers are, 
Lying close and giving ear 
Lest the hunt be drawing near, 
Or a comer-by be seen 
Swinging in a palanquin; — 
Where among the desert sands 
Some deserted city stands, 
All its children, sweep and prince, 
Grown to manhood ages since. 
Not a foot in street or house, 
Not a stir of child or mouse, 
And when kindly falls the night. 
In all the town no spark of light. 
There I'll come when I'm a man, 
With a camel caravan; 
Light a fire in the gloom 
Of some dusty dining room; 



86 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

See the pictures on the walls, 
Heroes, fights and festivals; 
And in a corner find the toys 
Of the old Egyptian boys. 

TO ANY READER. 
As from the house your mother sees 
You playing round the garden trees, 
So you may see, if you will look 
Through the windows of this book, 
Another child, far, far away. 
And in another garden, play. 
But do not think you can at all. 
By knocking on the window, call 
That child to hear you. He intent 
Is all on his play-business bent. 
He does not hear; he will not look, 
Nor yet be lured out of this book. 
For, long ago, the truth to say. 
He has grown up and gone away, 
And it is but a child of air 
That lingers in the garden there. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 87 

FROM A RAILWAY CARRIAGE 

Faster than fairies, faster than witches, 
Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches; 
And charging along Hke troops in a battle, 
All through the meadows the horses and cattle. 

All of the sights of the hill and the plain 
Fly as thick as driving rain; 
And ever again, in the wink of an eye. 
Painted stations whistle by. 

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles — 
All by himself and gathering brambles; 
Here is a tramp who stands and gazes; 
And there is the green for stringing the daisies! 

Here is a cart run away in the road 
Lumping along with man and load; 
And here is a mill and there is a river: 
Each a glimpse and gone for ever! 



88 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

FOREIGN LANDS 
Up into the cherry tree 
Who should cHmb but little me ? 
I held the trunk with both my hands 
And looked abroad on foreign lands. 

I saw the next door garden lie, 
Adorned with flowers, before my eye, 
And many pleasant places more 
That I had never seen before. 

I saw the dimpling river pass 
And be the sky's blue looking-gla»s; 
The dusty roads go up and down 
With people tramping into town. 

If I could find a higher tree 
Farther and farther I should see, 
To where the grown-up river slips 
Into the sea among the ships, 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 

To where the roads on either hand 
Lead onward into fairyland, 
Where all the children dine at five, 
And all the playthings come alive. 



FOREIGN CHILDREN 

Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, 

Little frosty Eskimo, 

Little Turk or Japanee, 

Oh! don't you wish that you were me ? 

You have seen the scarlet trees 
And the lions over seas; 
You have eaten ostrich eggs, 
And turned the turtles off their legs. 

Such a life is very fine. 
But it's not so nice as mine: 
You must often, as you trod. 
Have wearied not to be abroad. 



90 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

You have curious things to eat, 
I am fed on proper meat; 
You must dwell beyond the foam, 
But I am safe and live at home. 

Little Indian, Sioux or Crow, 

Little frosty Eskimo, 

Little Turk or Japanee, 

Oh! don't you wish that you were me? 



TO MINNIE 

The red room with the giant bed 
Where none but elders laid their head; 
The little room where you and I 
Did for a while together lie 
And, simple suitor, I your hand 
In decent marriage did demand; 
The great day nursery, best of all, 
With pictures pasted on the wall 
And leaves upon the blind — 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 91 

A pleasant room wherein to wake 
And hear the leafy garden shake 

And rustle in the wind — 
And pleasant there to lie in bed 

And see the pictures overhead — 
The wars about Sebastopol, 
The grinning guns along the wall, 

The daring escalade, 
The plunging ships, the bleating sheep, 
The happy children ankle-deep 

And laughing as they wade: 
All these are vanished clean away, 
And the old manse is changed to-day; 
It wears an altered face 
And shields a stranger race. 
The river, on from mill to mill, 
Flows past our childhood's garden still; 
But ah! we children never more 
Shall watch if from the water-door! 
Below the yew — it still is there — 
Our phantom voices haunt the air 
As we were still at play. 



92 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

And I can hear them call and say: 
"How far is it to Babylon?" 

Ah, far enough, my dear, 
Far, far enough from here — 
Yet you have farther gone! 
"Can I get there by candle-light?" 

So goes the old refrain. 
I do not know — perchance you might — 
But only, children, hear it right. 

Ah, never to return again! 
The eternal dawn, beyond a doubt, 

Shall break on hill and plain. 
And put all stars and candles out 

Ere we be young again. 
To you in distant India, these 
I send across the seas. 
Nor count it far across. 
For which of us forgets 
The Indian cabinets. 

The bones of antelope, the wings of albatross, 
The pied and painted birds and beans, 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 93 

The junks and bangles, beads and screens. 

The gods and sacred bells, 

And the loud-humming, twisted shells! 

The level of the parlor floor 

Was honest, homely, Scottish shore; 

But when we climbed upon a chair. 

Behold the gorgeous East was there! 

Be this a fable; and behold 

Me in the parlor as of old. 

And Minnie just above me set 

In the quaint Indian cabinet! 

Smiling and kind, you grace a shelf 

Too high for me to reach myself. 

Reach down a hand, my dear, and take 

These rhymes for old acquaintance sake. 



94 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

TO MY NAME-CHILD. 

Some day soon this rhyming volume, if you 

learn with proper speed, 
Little Louis Sanchez, will be given you to read. 
Then shall you discover, that your name was 

printed down 
By the English printers, long before, in London 

town. 

In the great and busy city where the East and 

West are met. 
All the little letters did the English printer set; 
While you thought of nothing, and were still 

too young to play. 
Foreign people thought of you in places far away. 

Ay, and while you slept, a baby, over all the 

English lands 
Other little children took the volume in their 

hands; 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 95 

Other children questioned, in their homes across 

the seas: 
Who was Httle Louis, won't you tell us, mother, 

please ? 

Now that you have spelt your lesson, lay it down 

and go and play, 
Seeking shells and seaweed on the sands of 

Monterey, 
Watching all the mighty whalebones, lying buried 

by the breeze. 
Tiny sandy-pipers, and the huge Pacific seas. 

And remember in your playing, as the sea-fog 

rolls to you, 
Long ere you could read it, how I told you what 

to do; 
And that while you thought of no one, nearly 

half the world away 
Some one thought of Louis on the beach of 

Monterey! 



96 A GARDEN OF VERSES 

TO WILLIE AND HENRIETTA. 

If two may read aright 
These rhymes of old delight 
And house and garden play, 
You two, my cousins, and you only, may. 

You in a garden green 
With me were king and queen, 
Were hunter, soldier, tar. 
And all the thousand things that children are. 

Now in the elders' seat 
We rest with quiet feet, 
And from the window-bay 
We watch the children, our successors, play. 

"Time was," the golden head 
Irrevocably said; 
But time which none can bind, 
While flowing fast away, leaves love behind. 



A GARDEN OF VERSES 97 



ENVOY. 

Go, little book, and wish to all 
Flowers in the garden, meat in the hall, 
A bin of wine, a spice of wit, 
A house with lawns enclosing it, 
A living river by the door, 
A nightingale in the sycamore! 



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